


Coming of Age

by etherian



Series: The Dark Ones [6]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Romance, Vampirism, first sight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:06:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etherian/pseuds/etherian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena is unconventional - and there is murder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming of Age

No one can say for certain when it began but for the detective who missed more than a dozen nights in his own bed, and the comforting embrace of his plump wife.

The first disappearance was a young woman of some youth yet who had, from the age of nine, led the hard life of a prostitute. Annie was found in an alley not far from the pub she frequented, as though asleep, a soft smile upon bloodless lips.

“She does make the prettiest of corpses,” observed the detective. It was an observation he would make over at least six other ladies of the night.

And, there would be more.

When she was a lovely woman of eighteen, prepared to marry and enter society, the ball was on the eve of her birthday. At night.

The dregs of society would be hit hard in its most shameful of society, those women of the shadows, the ladies who kept the night’s pleasures unto themselves. The elite of society did not mind; such dregs were not their problem.

Elena danced at her eighteenth birthday ball beneath the scandalised eyes of women, with eligible sons, who were there simply to judge the fey creature.

And, they found her wanting.

“ _Her hair is **loose**.”_

“ _Her hair is **black**.”_

“ _Is she wearing a **corset**?”_

“ _Dear God, she’s not wearing a **corset**!”_

“ _Forget about the corset, where are her shoes?”_

Matthew, minister to the large parish in that 18th century, was not worried about the oddity of his daughter. He had raised her, taught her to read, to write, and encouraged her to think. He had hoped she would wed some eligible young man, but he despaired that any man attending that night would be able to nurture the flower that was his Elena.

At midnight the clock did strike, then fell silent as the doors to the ballroom crashed open. A wind of prickling ice swept all around the powdered ladies and milksop sons, but Elena did not stop her dance.

The girl spun, alone and languid, for even the musicians had ceased their playing.

“Elena.”

The voice commanded, yet was no more than a whisper; a breath that only she heard.

Elena slowly spun to a stop until she faced the dark creature that stood surrounded by the wind, his dark grey cape swirling about his thighs and ankles as his eyes demanded her attention. She simply smiled, then once more began her dance.

She floated, she twirled, her gown of deep red following every movement like a mesmerizing thread of blood. Elena smiled, laughed even, as her arms stretched for the sky, towards the heavy chandelier of 1,000 candles. Her hips swayed, her frame was sinuous, her bare feet were silent.

And still, as if in mockery of the presence of him at the door, she danced to music only she could hear.

Elena smiled her joy, she laughed her delight,  _and Cheval was enchanted_ .

From that night forward the detective was not called to investigate any more of the mysterious deaths. He went home to his plump wife, to the comfort of her embrace, and the warmth of his bed.


End file.
